we stood in the kitchen at sunset.
bare feet on the cold linoleum.
you are standing by the open fridge.
the steady rhythmic, tick of the wall clock,
a spinning vinyl record,
the darkness swallowed the last gasp
of dying twilight
and your voice bled into the shadows
and your words found my quiet song.
have you prayed for us? I asked. you stepped closer
and you reached out, a leaf settling on still water,
warmth and softness on my cheek, on my shoulder
a bird tucking it's head beneath it's wing.
your open flannel shirt, your bare skin
as pale as moonlight
and whispers of an ancient song.
the secret of your soft skin
like warm clay shaped by the potter.
gentle hands shape the soft earth;
two shapes mold into one;
warm and smooth.
3d ago
Jun 2, 2026 at 2:25 PM UTC
we stood in the kitchen at sunset.
bare feet on the cold linoleum.
you are standing by the open fridge.
the steady rhythmic, tick of the wall clock,
a spinning vinyl record,
the darkness swallowed the last gasp
of dying twilight
and your voice bled into the shadows
and your words found my quiet song.
have you prayed for us? I asked. you stepped closer
and you reached out, a leaf settling on still water,
warmth and softness on my cheek, on my shoulder
a bird tucking it's head beneath it's wing.
your open flannel shirt, your bare skin
as pale as moonlight
and whispers of an ancient song.
the secret of your soft skin
like warm clay shaped by the potter.
gentle hands shape the soft earth;
two shapes mold into one;
warm and smooth.
